


the memories are all i have

by whom_ping_willow



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: (i really hope this tag means what i think it means and not something creepy and illegal), Childhood Memories, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Light Angst, Post-Canon, References to Fairy Tales, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:34:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29262072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whom_ping_willow/pseuds/whom_ping_willow
Summary: henry finds an old relic from the past, and it brings back memories of his dad.
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Arthur Fox & Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Comments: 12
Kudos: 52





	the memories are all i have

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first time posting a rwrb fanfic so i'm pretty nervous asdfgh. hope you guys like it!

The book is heavy and covered in dust when Henry picks it up. It was in one of the boxes of things he hasn’t yet decided if he will bring with him to America. When he dusts it off, the title, written in intricate gold letters, becomes visible:

_The Complete Collection of Fairy Tales by Hans Christian Andersen._

Henry’s breath catches in his throat as he is filled with recognition. This book… He opens it, to find that the pages have gone stiff and yellow with age. This book must be nearly as old as himself. He can’t remember when he got it, but he must have been really young. 

The pages don’t make any sound as he flips through it, stopping nearly halfway through. The title of each story is written in beautiful cursive letters and accompanied by a little illustration. This one is of a swan, floating peacefully on a lake, its head held up in an elegant and prideful manner. It’s beautiful, and he’s seen it a million times before. 

-

_“Daddy, will you read to me?”_

_Henry is just tall enough for his head to poke up behind his dad’s desk. What he’s doing looks important and adult-y and incredibly boring. What he_ should _be doing is reading to Henry. Or playing with Henry. Bea is at a sleepover with her school friends, and the palace seems empty and sad, with nothing fun for him to do._

_His dad smiles apologetically. “Sorry, love,” he says. “I have so much to do. How about later?”_

_“Pwease?” Henry says. He’s perfectly capable of pronouncing the word correctly, but his experience tells him he’s more likely to get what he wants when adults find him adorable._

_It looks like an internal battle is taking place in his dad’s head, and he doesn’t sound as certain when he says: “I’ll read to you before bed like I always do, I promise. But I haven’t got time right now, baby. I’m sorry.”_

_Henry pouts and looks up at his dad with the biggest puppy eyes he can muster. There’s not much his big blue eyes and full, rosy cheeks can’t accomplish. “But I wanna read_ now _, daddy,” he pleads._

_“Oh, how can I say no to you?” His dad sighs, defeated. He chuckles and shakes his head, getting up from his desk chair. “Fine. You pick out a book and I’ll read to you, but just for a bit, okay? Daddy is very busy.”_

_The book is almost too heavy for Henry to carry, but he manages to get it to the sitting room. He crawls onto his dad’s lap, nestling himself between two big, strong arms._

_They flip through the pages together, and Henry stops him at the story of_ the ugly duckling _. The illustration of the swan is what caught his eye the first time he saw it. But the story itself has gripped him ever since his dad first read it to him. The little duckling who grows up feeling wrong, misplaced... For some reason, it resonates with him. His favourite part is the ending, when the ugly duckling grows into a beautiful swan and finds a place it truly belongs. Henry doesn’t feel like he belongs in this palace. Everything here is too perfect. But right here, in his dad’s arms, he feels at home._

 _His dad starts reading: “_ It was so beautiful out in the country, it was summer- the wheat fields were golden, the oats were green, and down among the green meadows the hay was stacked _…”_

_Henry can already picture the scene. The beautiful countryside on a summer day, surely the most peaceful place to be. He closes his eyes and immerses himself in the story, allowing his dad’s voice to carry him far away._

_-_

_“Will you read to me?”_

_The typical hospital sounds - machines beeping, hurried footsteps along the hallway, uncomfortable silences - have all faded into the background by now. It’s just the two of them, Henry and his dad._

_It’s difficult to look at him, his dad who has always been the strongest and bravest person Henry knows, in a hospital bed looking weak and exhausted. He doesn’t look like himself, Henry thinks. His face is pale and sunken, and he has been rapidly losing weight lately. There doesn’t seem to be much of him left, and it hurts to look at, so Henry picks up the book of fairy tales from his nightstand. He found it on a shelf a few days ago, collecting dust, and he figured maybe his dad would like it if he read aloud to him. It seems like returning a favour, almost._

_“Which story do you want me to read?” He asks softly._

_“Hmm.” His dad closes his eyes, and is silent for so long Henry thinks he might’ve fallen asleep. He’s about to put the book away when his dad finally answers: “That one you always loved as a child…_ The ugly duckling _, right?”_

_Henry tries to smile. “Yeah.” He doesn’t need to look in the registry for the page number: Even after all these years, he remembers what page it begins on. He can’t do what his dad used to do; make the stories come to life so it feels like you’re there, so instead, he lets his voice be a warm and comforting presence in the otherwise sterile room._

_Halfway through the story, he feels his dad’s hand on his own and looks up. “Do you want me to stop?” He asks._

_His dad shakes his head. “No, just… You know I love you, right?”_

_“Oh.” Henry takes his hand. “I love you too, dad.”_

_“And, you know, if you ever think that there’s something… some part of you that I would be disappointed in or that would make me love you any less… Just know that’s not the case. I will_ always _love you no matter what, baby.”_

_Henry feels his stomach drop. Does his dad know? How could he? No one knows, not even Bea. “I, er…” He doesn’t know what to say, so he just gives his dad’s hand a gentle squeeze and continues reading._

_He doesn’t get far before his dad is fast asleep. It’s the last time he’s alone with him._

-

“Henry, sweetheart?”

The voice carries Henry swiftly and mercilessly back to reality. Alex is standing in the doorway. His eyebrows crease in a concerned look when Henry turns to face him. 

“What's wrong, baby?” In a few long strides, Alex crosses the room to where Henry is standing, still holding the book. 

Henry looks down at the heavy book in his hands, still opened at the page where _the ugly duckling_ begins. He follows the sketched lines of the swan carefully, mostly to avoid looking at Alex. “Nothing,” he mumbles. “I’m fine.” 

Alex brings up his hand to stroke Henry’s hair. “It doesn’t look that way,” he says, but when Henry stays quiet, he lets it go. “Found anything worth keeping?” He half gestures to the book in Henry’s hands. 

He nods, looking from the book to Alex. His deep brown eyes, looking at Henry with a mix of love and concern. He sighs, lowering his eyes to the book again. “I wish I’d told him,” he says abruptly. 

“Huh?”

“I wish I’d come out to him.”

Alex brushes a hand along his arm. “Who? Your dad?”

Henry nods. “At the time it didn’t seem relevant, or… Well, I guess part of me was scared of how he would take it. And there was so little time left. I never really mustered up the courage, I guess? But… I don’t know.” He bites his lip, willing the tears back. “In the hospital, when he was really sick… It seemed like he was trying to hint at it. Maybe that’s wishful thinking, or maybe he was just confused and disoriented from all the meds and the pain and… I don’t know. But if I could go back in time and change one thing, I think I would’ve told him.” 

Alex seems unsure of what to say. He reaches up to place a soft kiss on Henry’s cheek. “I’m sure he would’ve been proud of where you are today.” 

Henry nods, forcing a half-hearted smile. “I hope so,” he says. “And to answer your question, yes, I’m keeping the book.” 

He closes it, carefully studying the intricate gold writings on the deep blue cover. The memories it holds are far too important to be lost.


End file.
